...why not people?
I asked myself that question -- again -- today as I stood on what was supposed to be an express checkout line in the local supermarket this afternoon. I say "supposed to be" because, if I have this concept down right, the idea is to move people quickly and efficiently through the checkout and payment process, thus making their shopping experience a much more enjoyable and/or efficient one.
However, when you're stuck behind an 80-year-old mutant, things don't always work out as planned.
Insanity is not a disease; it's a defense mechanism.The opinions expressed here are disturbing and often disgusting to those with no sense of humor. I make no apologies for them, either. Contact the Lunatic at Excelsior502@gmail.com.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Barack Obama: Shadows and Dust...
Mark Steyn sums up Obama's Life: Composite Autobiography, Composite Girlfriends, Composite President.
Money Quote:
"In a post-modern America, the things that Gatsby attempted to fake – an elite schooling – Obama actually had; the things that Gatsby attempted to obscure – the impoverished roots – merely add to Obama's luster. Gatsby claimed to have gone to Oxford, but nobody knew him there because he never went; Obama had a million bucks' worth of elite education at Occidental, Columbia and Harvard Law, and still nobody knew him ("Fox News contacted some 400 of his classmates and found no one who remembered him"). In that sense, Obama out-Gatsbys Gatsby: His "shiftless and unsuccessful" relatives – the deportation-dodging aunt on public housing in Boston, the DWI undocumented uncle, the $12-a-year brother back in Nairobi – are useful props in his story, the ever more vivid bit-players as the central character swims ever more out of focus, but they don't seem to know him either. The more autobiographies he writes, the less anybody knows."
Waiting for Barack Obama to either be defeated electorally in November, or die of the sickle cell, has become an unbearably slow process. It's glacially slow. It's like watching grass grow or paint dry. It's become so painful that I would assume that every third American at this point is simply begging some random redneck out there to put a bullet in this guy's brain pan, just to end the National Agony.
I'd gladly give African-Americans another gratuitous holiday for a non-entity in trade, for Christ's sake.
(Note: We here at at he Asylum do not condone, nor recommend, that anyone do any violence of any kind, to anyone,. Excepting Muslims, who should be hunted down and slaughtered mercilessly, so that we can win this so-called War on terror, and walk through the Airport without getting felt up or having to go barefoot).
The sooner this douchebag is off the stage, the better. If I were Barack Obama (which I, thankfully, am not – it would mean that I would have chosen Michelle on purpose), I would be more than happy to leave Washington, D.C. on January 20, 2013 and never show my face in public again.
Of course, that would assume that Barack Obama has a sense of shame. Of course he doesn’t: he’s a progressive (which means he lies as a habit); he’s a democrat (which means he’s expected to lie for a living); and he’s (half-) black man (which means it’s not a lie if it’s directed against white people, or if professing belief in his lies becomes a matter of personal safety for you in public).
I can’t wait for this guy to return to a well-deserved obscurity.
"Power Players", Indeed...
I don't know how many of you watch Jeopardy on television, nowadays, but if you do, then you were treated to the spectacle of Jeopardy Power Players Week last week, where the people who are helping to shape public opinion and policy were featured.
And now I know exactly why we're in such dire straits as a country and a culture;You couldn't have found a bigger collection of dunces if you were trying.
If these were the prime examples of the so-called Washington "Power Players", then I'm a German Shepherd.
And now I know exactly why we're in such dire straits as a country and a culture;You couldn't have found a bigger collection of dunces if you were trying.
If these were the prime examples of the so-called Washington "Power Players", then I'm a German Shepherd.
My Influence Grows...
Which might be a bad thing, all things considered.
Anyways, I have been graciously asked -- and have accepted -- a chance to have some of my diseased rantings disseminated on a weekly basis by the Diogenes' Middle Finger blog. Which is kind of cool, if you ask me, because who knew there were that many demented assholes in the United States that find my thought processes interesting?
I appreciate the chance to add something -- just what still remains to be seen -- to a great blog, and the opportunity to reach a bigger audience. Who knows: I could even wind up scoring a regular gig on Hannity for it.
Drag your asses over to DMG and read up; you'll like it very much, and if you don't, you're probably the type that like to tongue kiss the Men's Room floor at your local mosque.
In other blog news, Mr. Chap is back at The Insane Asylum after a forced hiatus. Welcome Back, Mr. C! You were missed. I instruct all regular readers -- and the irregular ones, as well -- to skedaddle back on over there and read something, for the love of all you hold holy. Don't make me have to unleash the Asylum Elves in full combat gear and facepaint. Remember what happened to Bin Laden the last time I did that.
Anyways, I have been graciously asked -- and have accepted -- a chance to have some of my diseased rantings disseminated on a weekly basis by the Diogenes' Middle Finger blog. Which is kind of cool, if you ask me, because who knew there were that many demented assholes in the United States that find my thought processes interesting?
I appreciate the chance to add something -- just what still remains to be seen -- to a great blog, and the opportunity to reach a bigger audience. Who knows: I could even wind up scoring a regular gig on Hannity for it.
Drag your asses over to DMG and read up; you'll like it very much, and if you don't, you're probably the type that like to tongue kiss the Men's Room floor at your local mosque.
In other blog news, Mr. Chap is back at The Insane Asylum after a forced hiatus. Welcome Back, Mr. C! You were missed. I instruct all regular readers -- and the irregular ones, as well -- to skedaddle back on over there and read something, for the love of all you hold holy. Don't make me have to unleash the Asylum Elves in full combat gear and facepaint. Remember what happened to Bin Laden the last time I did that.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Can We Still Win Wars?
This is the question posed by Professor Hanson. The answer: of course we can.
We just have to decide to really fight them first.
We just have to decide to really fight them first.
A Cure for Snoring?
Okay, before I left you last week I had promised that I would tell you all about my severe snoring issues, and how I have apparently cured them.
Before I get to the secret, let me first give you some idea of just how bad my snoring actually was. When you read these examples, you might fall on the floor laughing, in which case, you'd best call 911 right now, so as to be prepared before you continue.
Before I get to the secret, let me first give you some idea of just how bad my snoring actually was. When you read these examples, you might fall on the floor laughing, in which case, you'd best call 911 right now, so as to be prepared before you continue.
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